Secret Auror, Harry Potter
by J.A. Gould
Summary: Time and magic don't mix. Or maybe they mix too well. Harry gets thrown back in time when Voldemort's Killing Curse fails yet again. Picking up the pieces of a lifetime lost, Harry goes about building a new life. With an ally in Dumbledore, he becomes a real life Auror and explores the highs and lows of Magical life in the 1950s.
1. Chapter 1

Time is a fickle thing. Philosophers have long debated the true nature of it: whether time is something measured or experienced; whether it is historical or experiential. Scientists have assumed its existence for its ad hoc utility. But, only those who've experienced time's truly ambivalent and chaotic nature can attest to the fact that time reigns supreme and testing nature or testing time is a one-way ticket to a hellish recourse. You just don't want to tinker with time. And more, you don't want to tinker with nature as it relates to time and morality.

Tom Riddle tested nature in such a way with his horcruxes, dragging the entire world's course and especially the fate of one Harry Potter into a punishment neither asked for. So, when Tom saw fit to spit in the face of his own betrayal of nature by killing one of his own horcruxes – the scar on Harry Potter's head – nature, fate, and time combined to reset the clock – so to speak. Betrayal of nature is one thing; unabashed hubris in doing so – even unknowingly – was a step too far. The resulting cataclysmic explosion when that killing curse left Riddle's wand in the middle of that battle field transported the battered and beaten form of Harry Potter to a time before Tom Riddle so saw fit to toy with powers beyond all any single person should hope to grapple.

" _Avada Kedavra_ ," hissed a delighted Lord Voldemort with his wand pointedly focused on the prone form Harry, his face bleeding from the debris and shrapnel littering the grounds on Privet Drive. The battleground proving to be much more of an epicenter to the events of the war than anyone could have imagined: Harry childhood hideaway and Snape's childhood home's close proximity merely a coincidence. Snape managed to secure the final horcrux on Harry's list before his own demise at Voldemort's hand.

The broken diadem was clenched in Voldemort's left fist as the wand in his right unleashed a blinding green light. Harry looked up defiantly as the second syllable passed Voldemort's lips. Making eye contact, Harry saw the quizzical look in the dark lord's eyes the moment before the green light rebounded, the ground rumbled, and the world went black.

…

The sky littered rain upon a hooded figure making his way towards a London phonebooth. Entering the booth, the figure pulled his hood down revealing a man in his early twenties with a handsome bespectacled face. He took a deep breath as he picked up the phone and spun the dial around five times.

 _6-2-4-4-2_

"Please state your name and reason for your visit."

"Harry Potter, job interview."

"Thank you."

The floor descended into the earth, Harry idling wondering what charms prevented bystanders from witnessing such a miraculous feat near the bustling city street, as he plummeted into the ground below.

Traversing the main lobby of the ministry was a sight to behold. Harry never would have envisioned himself interviewing for an auror job even a year ago. But, the revelation that was the wizarding world in the 1950s granted far more opportunity than Harry had ever known in the wizard's domain.

"Welcome, Harry Potter, to the Ministry of Magic."

…

Harry felt a fleeting feeling of flying through time. Similar to those moments in third year when he and Hermione had managed to save his godfather and others over the course of that adventurous evening. This was an animal of a slightly different magnitude so to speak. Whereas with Hermione he felt a rushing spinning and off-the-ground sensation, now he felt as if his body was on the verge of a centripetal accident with his inner organs being ripped out from inside of his chest and his body navigating more than the world as the effects of Voldemort's magical experimentation saw its justice enacted upon the nineteen-year-old wizard. The feeling lasted far longer and seemed to bridge realities far distinct.

The sights and sounds of an ethereal goo began to take shape, Harry saw sunlight, a much more rural looking Privet Drive, and the insides of his stomach being spilled onto the sidewalk as the motion came to a sudden stop.

"Are you quite alright?" sounded the alarmed voice of a nearby young woman. Her appearance seemed to come right out of a movie. A three-layer floral petticoat dress peered down on Harry's disheveled formed. His robes - a mixture of dragon hide and acromantula silk - the same that he wore during that final battle with Voldemort. Despite understanding some strong magic had occurred, Harry wasn't sure exactly what happened.

"Yes, my friends just pulled a prank on me, is there a public loo nearby?" Harry lied quickly.

"Oh, how terrible. Yes, down Wisteria Lane there is a public lavatory in the park."

"Thanks, I really appreciate it."

Harry escaped the awkward encounter, quickly making his way down Wisteria Lane, taking the familiar route to the public park that Dudley had painstakingly destroyed with his gang over the past half-decade. Taking in the unfamiliar environment, seemingly drawn out of a public service announcement with painstaking detail. He felt the scolding stares of the neighbors, with their silent judging looks as if he were still defined by the Dursley's rumors as a public outcast.

As he strolled nearer the park, he approached a newspaper stand with the local _Surrey Sun_ and _The Times_. As the _Sun_ was free, he snagged a copy and finally reached the public loo in the middle of the park, ignoring any quizzical glances at his relatively strange garb.

Peeling his robes and pants off, he wiped the muck and blood that remained stuck on his form. Smelling his underarms and deciding that an honest shower was still in order, Harry waved his wand over his clothes removing all the debris and grime, donned them, and headed out the door. Reaching the seemingly newly-minted walkway bridging Wisteria Way Park and Privet Drive, he apparated out. As he strolled out of the London alleyway near the Leaky Cauldron, feigning nonchalance, he glanced at the frontpage of the _Surrey Sun_ and gasped at the date: _November 4, 1949._

…

Auror Goren Grey strode lumberingly into his office at the MoM London Offices. With the recent work done by Albus Dumbledore along the German front in the war on Grindlewald (his supposed assassination of the dark wizard), the auror corps turned its attention back to the more quotidian detective work: your run of the mill dark wizards, murderers, and potion dealers.

Reaching the murder auror corner of the office, he slumped into his desk and whipped his wand toward the tea and coffee filling station, and had a pot up to boil and pouring into a teapot which floated its way to his desk station. Taking a heavy spoonful of sugar and a large pour of cream, he poured himself a large cup of tea. Inhaling the humid fumes from the cup, he pulled out a potion bottle from inside his trenchcoat and added a large dollop of the headache relieving potion into the tea.

Taking an enormous slug from his tea cup, Auror Grey let out an unrelenting sigh.

"Long night?" came the mockingly bright voice of Trainer Vittoria Rosier, one of the few female officers to join the ranks following the liberal reforms enacted with the incoming regime of Minister Wilhelmina Tuft. Rosier was a fresh recruit, as they say, straight out of Hogwarts, straight Os, and fierce with a wand. She fit a nice figure as well, with long black hair and lustrous brown eyes. She still hadn't been given much opportunity though. While the biggest of big wigs changed, the lesser of the big wigs stayed the same. And Head Auror Bilius Wood was as backwards as they come, as far as Rosier was concerned. She foresaw a tumultuous ascendency through the ranks within her future. Afterall, two years out of Hogwarts and she still hadn't made Auror.

"Yeah, yeah. Mind your own business, rookie." Auror Grey snapped back.

"I'll mind if I have you with me on Diagon Alley patrols, smelling like a bottle of firewhiskey, old man."

"Good luck with your Auror exam, next week, kid. I hear they may even pass you this time."

"I expect you heard that after you took Little Bilius out of your mouth, eh? You old poof."

A knock sounded on the door, bringing a cool sobriety to the light hearted banter, and reminding Auror Grey just how much he wished for an office away from the front door to the Auror den.

The door cracked open, showing the bespectacled face of one Harry Potter, "Hello? Is this where the Head Auror Office is?"

Rosier released an annoyed sigh, "Next door on your right, it has a sign that says 'Head Auror' on it."

"Er- Thank you." Harry said, blushing with embarrassment and closing the door.

Auror Grey let out a bark of a laugh. "Never change, kid. I'm pretty sure that's your new patrol partner who you just humiliated."

…

Not prone to become so flustered, Harry couldn't help but think of how pretty the rude witch was as he knocked on the Head Auror's office door.

"Come in."

Making his way in, Harry couldn't help but feel a little queasy in anticipation. The office he entered was for the secretary to the Head Auror. The man seated at the desk was a pencil thin man with large black plastic square framed glasses. He presented a completely unimposing figure, seemingly bookish and out of place as an organizer for anything.

"Hello, you must be Harry Potter. The name's Thelanious Croaker. Auror Wood is expecting you. If I could have you sign in here, I'll let him know you're in."

Piercing blue eyes met glowing green as Harry took the proffered clipboard and quill and signed his name.

"Thank you, Mr. Croaker."

"Thank _you_ , Mr. Potter. Go right in." Mr. Croaker said, accepting back the clipboard and quill, and motioning to the large oak door at the back of the room.

…

Head Auror Wood was a man of a different age. The war had ended and he was a man without a cause. Reforms were starting with the new female minister, and he felt the pressure coming from above and below for him to resign. However, he didn't get to be Head Auror without having some fight in him. And he sure as shit wasn't going to bow down to some hippy minister and her band of merry travelers. Not to mention, he still had some allies of his own especially within his own office, especially his prized neophyte Moody. And as far as neophytes go, there was the newest of the new, Dumbledore's boy, Potter. A muggleborn by all accounts, but Dumbledore vouched for him, and God might as well have vouched for him as far as the ministry was concerned.

Thus, Harry Potter strolled into the Head Auror office.

"Harry Potter" greeted the powerful man.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir" Harry extended his hand to shake. Head Auror Wood just smirked a crooked grin.

"I've heard a lot about you, boy." Harry withdrew his hand. "Here on the word of Dumbledore himself."

"Professor Dumbledore is a great man."

"Surely, surely." He paused. "I was told you're interested in becoming an Auror is that true?"

Brightening somewhat, Harry replied, "Yes, sir."

"It says here you aced both the entrance exam and the Auror exam already…"

Harry merely nodded.

"Well, no one starts as an Auror. As long as I've been here, there's a way things are done. And Dumbledore can get stuffed as far as I'm concerned when it comes to Auror business. You'll have to earn this, boy. Understood?"

"I understand, sir."

"Good. Now, your first assignment is to be partnered with Trainee Rosier. You are also officially a Trainee until you get your feet wet. Those test scores may play well upstairs, but dark wizards don't care about your Herbology NEWT, do they?"

Restraining a sigh, Harry solemnly shook his head in agreement. As far as supercilious lectures go, there was Snape and then there was everybody else, as far as Harry was concerned. An overimportant boss? This, he could handle.

"You're right, sir. Thank you for this opportunity."

"You're welcome, kid. And hey," finally, the older man held out his hand and Harry shook it, "welcome to the Auror corps."


	2. Chapter 2

Looking at the Marauder's Map, Harry inched his way forward through the fourth floor corridor. In between his extra lessons with Professor Lupin and fraternizing with Hermione and Ron, Harry had plenty of free time despite his more rigorous third year schedule. Once the twins gifted the Marauder's Map to him, Harry spent even more time exploring the castle, looking for secrets and magic extracurricular. He figured he knew even more about the castle than the twins by now and they themselves may have been second only to certain professors and headmasters as far as mastering the castle's layout goes.

Hearing a distant clock chime three times, he started to run. Looking up from his map, he saw the stained-glass portrait of a beautiful mermaid and screeched to a halt. Looking closer at the map, he saw a bit of text come alive ' _Sterium'_ it said on the map, and so Harry repeated it aloud. A loud click sounded, and the stained-glass portrait seemed to fall out of its frame into the wall housing it. Underneath where the glass had been was an old wooden safe with a lock.

" _Alohomora_ " Harry said jabbing his wand at the lock. Nothing.

" _Reserati_ " Harry said pointedly, this time with more of a swish of the wand. The wooden lock box stared back unmoving despite the more advanced (and darker) unlocking charm.

Looking back at the map, Harry saw another scribbling start up underneath _Sterium… Mort D'Ancestor._

Turning back to the lock box, Harry jabbed his wand again " _Mort D'Ancestor._ " A click sounded and the face of the lock box popped ajar. Reaching inside, Harry pulled out a smaller portable safe made out of a glistening dark metal, runes could be seen faintly glittering and shifting across the surface.

Setting the box down on the ground, Harry again pointed his wand, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

The box came alive, stretching and wiggling as it expanded to a size far greater than the half meter by half meter cube it was originally. Harry took a step back and the former cube became a sort of trunk, albeit an oddly symmetrical one. Transformation complete, the top popped open and a cloud of dust rose into the air.

Casting a wordless wind charm, Harry blew the dust away from the surface of the trunk and peered inside. "Jackpot." He had found the Marauder's secret stash of spell journals and various grimoires. One of which was the prize of the time, sprawled across the cover in handwriting he would eventually discovered to be his father's spelled out the single word that would transform the next 8 months of his life, _Animagus_.

…

The alarm clock sitting on the bedside table next to the handsome dark-haired youth went off with pomp and circumstance. With nary a groan, Harry smacked the clock, silencing it and sat up. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he got up to the sound of a owl clicking her beak against far window. He opened the window and slipped a knut into the little coin purse attached the the left leg and snatched the Daily Prophet from the other. The owl took a quick drink from a glass of water on the desk in the small studio apartment and was just as soon fluttering outside onto the next subscriber.

Harry again checked the date on the newspaper _August 2, 1950._ He had to constantly remind himself of his time travel. Throughout the day, it was easier to recognize, but early in the morning, he'd still feel like he was waking up back in his own time. Such habits were hard to break.

He managed a leak, a quick shower and brushed teeth before he put on his red trainee Auror robes and black fedora. (Wizards seemed to have a thing about hats that Harry couldn't just ignore.) Another day of monotony awaited. It had been several months since his meeting with Head Auror Wood and in that several months, he'd gotten a taste of the people in Diagon and Knockturn Alleys. The wizarding world of London surprisingly was virtually indistinguishable from when he initially explored it in his summer holiday the summer before third year. Seemingly only the politics were different. And as far as Harry was concerned, he might as well have traveled into the future for how much more progressive it was for the most part. However, considering how backwards the wizarding world he entered was, perhaps that's not saying much. Further, his circle of acquaintances was still rather small, so perhaps the mores weren't quite as they seemed.

A quick pop of apparition later and he was in Muggle London, in an alleyway just outside the Leaky Cauldron. Following his normal route, he walked through a breakfast crowd that parted at the sight of his crimson outer robes until he reached the familiar corner booth where his partner liked the read the prophet.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Harry said, sliding into the seat opposite the ever beautiful Vittoria Rosier; the brunette paid him no mind.

"Contemplating requesting a new partner."

"Oh Rosey, you don't mean that."

Vittoria rolled her eyes and continued finishing up the article she had been reading.

"Any good news?"

"No," she frowned, "although, there was another disappearance last night, _Rooksbane Flint was abducted from his estate in Yorkshire_. That makes 5 disappearances in the last month alone."

"How is that good news?"

"It isn't. But, there's no shortage of investigatorial work we should be doing rather than this nonsense."

"Well, it's passed 8:30, so we should really get going."

With a sigh, she grabbed her crimson robe and threw it over her black battle robes (which were really more like a military uniform). Even trainees like Harry and VIttoria wore the red of the Auror department, it was only once they were inducted as Aurors proper that they _gained their stripes_ : white triangles on their shoulders which indicate rank. 1 triangle was a junior Auror who had rank only on trainees, 2 triangles was a senior Auror who had rank on all junior Aurors and trainees and so on. They would be satisfied with a mere stripe at this point.

Passing the brick entryway, they started their usual patrol, once down Diagon Alley and then loop back around and through Knockturn Alley. They had only started the loop back when they saw a crowd forming on the visible outskirts of Knockturn, right outside the less regarded apothecary of the two in town.

"Make way! Make way!" Vittoria shouted as she and Harry approached the scene. Harry drew his wand and shot sparks in the air. They were able to make their way through.

Harry drew near the front of the shop and saw the source of the comotion. The front door was completely destroyed, splintered, and seemingly burnt. Some reaction with the wards evidently led whatever vandal who encroached on the property to simply destroy the front door. Crude but effective.

Burglaries were rare in the alley. While there was always the threat of shoplifters, runic wards placed on the shelves prevented such minor crimes. But for bigger crimes like this, strong wards put up both by goblins and wizards prevented most criminals from forcing their way in like this. It was bad business: thievery.

Reaching the doorway, Harry and Vittoria caught sight of the shopkeeper inside taking stock of the situation. The flustered frail looking witch wore black robes and seemed to have the similar greasy looking hair of Snape from Harry's former timeline but with a ratio of more gray than black to it.

Harry took the lead in questioning. (Vittoria tended to lose patience much quicker than Harry in these kinds of situations).

"Hello, Madam," Harry said, "Trainee Auror Potter here. Would you like to report a theft?"

"Oh, thank you, sir, yes, I just arrived to a busted in door and some of the stocks are off from last count yesterday. I just knew it'd happen to me. Not fancy Slug and Jiggers, no no!" she finished rather desperately and loudly. Vittoria made eye contact with Harry, nearly rolling her eyes, but Harry nodded to her pocket and she took out her notepad and started to write.

"Please take a deep breath, Madam. Calmly," Harry said, "You mentioned the stocks being off. What exactly is missing?"

"Let me grab the master's log, it keeps a running tally of what's in stock and I can tell you." She said, the flush on her cheeks slowly fading away.

"And can we have your name please and your title?" Vittoria interjected.

"The name's Mulpepper, dear, Myriam Mulpepper. I'm the owner and manager here." She said, fumbling with a large binder from behind the counter. "Ah, see here," she flipped the binder around and pushed it in front of the pair of trainees and tapped an entire section of herbs, "They completely wiped out my stock of ephedra leaves, stamens, and stems. And we just received that shipment yesterday from a client in Russia."

"What potion uses ephedra?" Harry asked.

"Well, pepper up potion is the most popular, I suppose." Madam Mulpepper responded.

"And, that's all that was taken?"

She took back the binder and studied it further. She flipped the book back around again and pointed. Vittoria leaned forward and wrote. "Here, two barrels of salamander blood. Crikey, that's expensive!"

"And that's all?" Harry repeated. She took back the binder and flipped through it some more and eventually nodded that yes, that was all. "Thank you, madam. We'll file your report and let you know if we track down who's done this.

"Here's a copy of our report for your records and insurance," Vittoria added.

Harry looked around the shop as they made their way outside and noted how strange a crime it was. _Broke in and only took what they need._ There was virtually no damage done except the front door and to the outside of the stores holding salamander blood and ephedra.

Looking over at Vittoria as they made their way out of the alley to head back to the office and file reports, Harry said, "I guess someone is making a boat load of pepper up, eh?"

"That, or they're making something a bit stronger. You never heard of _geschwindigkeit_?"

Harry merely showed a quizzical expression.

She continued, "During the war, Grindlewald gave his followers potions to help them fight. It worked at times, but they're addicting. I've heard from some of the prison wardens that certain wizards react scary if they go without. Magical meltdown. It's scary."

"You think whoever stole these is making gesch-geschwigidkeit?"

" _Geschwindigkeit_ ," she corrected, "and maybe. It makes more sense than some pepper up potion." She guffawed.

They made their way to the apparition-out area of the alley and popped away to paperwork and desk duty. It was nearly noon already, so their patrol shift was over for the day.

Walking into the Auror Offices, Harry and Vittoria saw Auror Grey who lit up at seeing the young pair. He had became something of a mentor for the two despite his rather foul mouth and questionable adherence to the drug laws. Grey was something of an anomaly, a brilliant detective but insubordinate and seemingly a guy who would be a senior Auror for the rest of his career.

"Hey, Rosier, Pot Smoker, listen up and try to resist soaking your pants." Vittoria rolled her eyes while Harry just listened somewhat immune to the innuendo after several months being inundated with it. Harry's desk was two over from Grey. "Word around the alley is that tonight is a _showcase night_. Some head honchos from the French Auror delegation arrived today to ask for assistance with some unruly Grindlewald disciples in Normandy. The boss wasn't pleased, but the dick sucking commenced. Sounds like a half dozen newbies are being thrown to the wolves. You two better hope that it'll be you."

"Showcase night?"

Goren grinned somewhat maniacally, showing his crooked yellow teeth. "You didn't think we were all civilized, eh Potter? You're getting dirty tonight."

…

A _showcase night_ was a special event in the lives of those who worked in the department of law enforcement. It was essentially a pub night for the bosses with the live entertainment being the trainees or junior Aurors fought each other to showcase who was the most skilled with their wands. The victors generally rose through the ranks faster. Often a prize like the job in France was on the line, or a bonus of several galleons, etc. Harry heard a voice in his head that sounded oddly like Hermione berating his bosses for their barbaric practices while another voice that sounded much more like Ron was excited, looking forward to the action that had been so far afield from the everyday of his introduction to being an Auror. Harry himself felt somewhere in between. He was looking forward to being able to test his wanded abilities again, but felt like the practice was somewhat crude. Not much for the rowdy bar scene.

Harry could be seen mulling it over, as he put on his Auror under robes and a simple black cloak on top. Technically, they were off duty for the duration of the night, so the Auror red wasn't to be seen. (The under robes would help with his mobility though and prevented the simplest of disarming tactics, e.g. a body shot _expelliarmus_.) The department had rented out the basement to a known dueling speakeasy in Knockturn. Whereas on a regular night, you might see Werewolves wrestling or goblin sword fights, tonight was simply for the Aurors. A quid pro quo as it were. They leave the club alone to cater to the darker breeds and occasionally when the need arose, they would get their own private gladiator colosseum.

Harry popped away to his usual alleyway across from the Leaky Cauldron, and made his way quickly through the pub into the Alley and down Knockturn. There was a bit of an electricity in the air, and the usually dark alley seemed much more vacant than usual, as if the regulars - particularly the unsavory patrons - knew to keep away for the night.

Following the seemingly well-worn trail of his fellow DLE officers down the rabbit hole into the ruckus below ground, Harry was amazed by the relatively banal magic that turned a barroom basement into a virtual colosseum. Of all the magic there was, expansion magic seemed the most spectacular. Wooden rafters stretched up to the ceiling, while the pit at the far end of the magically expanded room dug deep into the ground. It was like someone had cut a football stadium in half and placed it in the middle of Knockturn Alley. Rather than bleachers, there were restaurant tables. And in place of metal ramps were wooden staircases.

Similar to the stadium setup, in what would ordinarily be the top rows of seats sat the lowest ranking officers. Harry caught sight of Head Auror Wood and what appeared to be several of the French delegation at the table front and center. Several senior Aurors were also in that group. Adjacent to them were several senior ranking officials from other ranks and departments: the head of hitwizards, the head of magical law enforcement, and even someone from the department of mysteries who Harry had never seen before.

It was only seven o'clock in the evening, and the alcohol seemed to already be liberally flowing already particularly among the lower ranks.

"Harry!"

Harry caught sight of Vittoria in a section somewhere in the middle waving him over. Making his way past several groups of younger wizards and witches, he found a seat next to his partner.

"Vittoria," Harry said by way of greeting, "You ready for tonight?"

"Naturally," she said with the conceited spunk he could expect from her, "Here, I want you to meet some friends. This is Alastor Moody, Amelia Bones, and Katie McLadden." She indicated first a younger, less scarred and surprisingly more handsome version of Madeye's counterpart, then a monocle-less yet still stern-looking Ms. Bones, and then a quite cute-looking red head and (presumably) ancestor of Cormac McLadden. Handshakes around and Harry took his seat again.

"Nice to meet you all," Harry said politely.

"And this is Harry Potter, my partner," Vittoria said.

"Potter? Any relation to Fleamont Potter?" Moody asked.

"I'm a Muggleborn, I'm afraid," Harry lied.

"Ah, well I heard you're supposed to be fairly decent with a wand?"

"Oh, well, I've had my share of experiences, no doubt," Harry said rather modestly. "Are all of you going to be participating tonight?" Harry asked, looking to get the attention off of himself.

"Yes, from the sounds of things, there are maybe twenty or so others looking for a spot." Amelia took over the conversation. "But, there are only five or six of us who are going to be sent to France."

"Let's hope we all get a spot then." Vittoria said, magnanimously.

The lights flashed on and off twice, rather like a theatre prior to a show starting. Apparently, all those expected to arrive had done so. Harry noticed Head Auror Wood started to make his way to the stage, and then the adrenaline started to flow. He barely paid attention as Wood pointed his want to his throat and began a somewhat lengthy speech about the power of the British DoLE, especially its Auror corps, and how generations of great wizards had passed through this very stage and showcased their potential. He talked about the need for international cooperation and the pitfalls of nationalism and xenophobia. Harry tuned back in when he finally neared conclusion:

"Now, any trainee who wishes to participate this evening please raise your wand."

Harry mimicked those around him in raising his wand. Immediately after his wand reached the air, a large scoreboard in the back lit up with his name and the names of each participant. Examining the board closer, Harry noted it appeared to be a single elimination type of tournament with twenty-four trainees. Fortunately, Moody, Amelia, and Vittoria were all in different brackets, so he wouldn't have to face them. Unfortunately, his second potential opponent was Katie McLadden. He felt her glance his way and turned and winked at her mouthing "Sorry". She blushed slightly and gave him a commiserating look.

"Participants, please come forth, and we shall begin momentarily."

Some shuffling was heard and finally Harry was herded along with his fellow participants to the staging area. He was part of the first group to start the contest, but he was on-deck or next in line as it were. The stage was set up that four duels would go on simultaneously.

A hitwizard who would play the role of referee spoke up, "Duelists, no lethal or permanently damaging spells! Ready, three-two-one, begin!"

Harry couldn't see much from his back stage vantage point, but he heard several voices shouting incantations and the crashes and explosions that go along with a wand fight. A loud gong sounded, as Harry imagined someone needed a protego maxima already, followed by a louder crack sound, and then the crowd started to cheer.

"Potter! Vaccaro!"

It was a fast knockout for whoever managed it, Harry thought, as he made his way stage side and made his way to the open duel pit. He also finally laid eyes on his opponent. Vaccaro was a brutish looking wizard. Brown hair and brown eyes and all together underwhelming features.

The other dueling pits were occupied and rather hectic looking. Two other duels had ended already before Harry even got to his spot. He shook hands with Vaccaro who tried to do that thing where you squeeze the other guy's hand as hard as possible. Harry snorted and they separated to their starting lines.

"No lethal or permanently damaging spells! Ready, three-two-one, begin!"

Seeing light start to manifest in his opponents wand tip, Harry thought, _Protego maxima_ , jabbing his wand forward, in time for a severely overpowered stunner to crash into his magical shield with an even louder gong than earlier. Harry cast several stunners and body binds his opponents way. No bothering to see if they had an effect, Harry transfigured the ground in front of him into a stone barrier. That was quickly turned to dust as his opponent cast yet another overpowered spell, this time a cutter. Harry banished the dust and debris of his broken shield into his opponent causing him to cough and sputter a bubble head charm and a quick shield as Harry started piling on stunners.

Dodging a bone shattering hex, Harry started to dial it up. Mixing in some painful hexes, he got his opponent to move and shield. Harry clearly had the upper hand both in terms of fitness and power. Vaccaro started to get desperate. Bone shattering hexes became blinding curses and blood boiling curses and borderline dark magic. Technically, they weren't permanently disabling, but they would be very nasty should they strike.

Harry had enough. Using the tip of his wand he caught and recast a particularly nasty cutting curse from Vaccaro aimed it into the ground at Vaccaro's feet, cast a shield shattering curse and several overpowered stunners. Vaccaro managed to deflect one of the stunners with his wand after his shield was torn to shreds, but several more got through, and the fight was over as the crowd cheered.

Harry didn't bother to _reenervate_ Vaccaro after his sophomoric attitude and borderline tactics and merely went backstage again to wait for his next duel. Harry looked around for Vittoria or Katie, but didn't catch sight of her. He did run into Amelia and Moody however.

"How'd your fights go?" Harry asked.

"Alright," said Moody.

"Not terribly difficult. Katie didn't fair so well though," Amelia said, indicating to the women's loo, presumably where Katie had to go to collect herself.

"That's too bad. Although, I can't say I was looking forward to facing her," Harry admitted.

"I don't blame you." Moody said. "I don't know what got into that girl. She must have been psyched out. No offense, but this is child's play."

Harry couldn't help but agree.

It didn't take long for the second round to start up. Moody and Amelia were off and Harry himself made his way back to the stage. Vittoria had won her first match but had to wait for a spot for her second. Harry hoped to win quickly enough to be able to catch the end of her duel.

His next opponent was Septimus Rookwood, older brother to Augustus. When he saw the surname, Harry wasn't as surprised McLadden had such difficulty. Harry could only imagine the tricks up Rookwood's sleeves if his brother was any barometer. Whereas with Vaccaro it was a brute force type of duel, Harry expected finesse might be the name of the game this go-round.

"No lethal or permanently damaging spells! Ready, three-two-one, begin!"

Neither duelist started out firing. Harry and Rookwood eyed each other with their wands raised. Harry made eye contact and immediately felt a breach on his mind barriers, breaking off eye contact, Harry started casting. Rookwood dodged and flicked his wand about knocking down spells that were within reach. It became a dance of sorts, one would take turns casting spell after spell while the other dodged and weaved defenses until the defenses turned into offenses and back and forth it went.

Harry noted Rookwood was skilled but still, he lacked experience and his spells weren't particularly strong. Harry estimated he could probably take a stunner dead on and throw it off by flaring his magic. Not that he could feasibly test that hypothesis without risking defeat.

Deflecting a _stupefy_ with pinpoint aim at Rookwood's head, Harry started delving into his wartime tactics. He began a spell chain of higher level offensive spells. A stunner to the solar plexus, a bone breaker to his hips, a disorienting curse to the head, and faster and faster he went. Rookwood was fatiguing. Casting an overpowered shield, Rookwood used a familiar tact of dark wizards from Harry's past:

" _Serpensortia!_ " and a giant serpent lept from the elm wand pointed Harry's way. _Fool me once_ , Harry thought, as he avoided sharing his parseltongue.

Not missing a beat, Harry countered with an " _Ardeidavis!_ " and a angry flock of five herons came forth and started battling the giant serpent. Harry went right back into his spell chaining, a stunner, a _petrificus_ , and more came forth.

One of the herons got crushed in the serpent's mouth, but the remaining four started pecking along the body causing an odd screeching sound.

Harry ignored the snake's cries and shielded several nasty body bruisers and parried a bonebreaker into Rookwood's ankle. It got through with a loud crack. Rookwood attempted a shield but an overpowered stunner followed by a pair of unspoken _petrificuses_ ended the battle there.

" _Accio wand,_ " Harry intoned, and Rookwood lay prostrate and defeated.

Another cheer went up and Harry calmly bowed to the crowd he couldn't quite see through the stage lights and finally noticed that he and Rookwood were the last fighters standing (or in Rookwood's case lying face down) in the arena. The fight had gone on longer than he had anticipated.

Harry quickly exited the stage with a nod to the crowd when he realized the full attention had gotten onto him.

Head Auror Wood came back onto the stage.

"Well done, well done - indeed - to our six victors. A round of applause for our trainees." WOod paused while the crowd gave one last roar. "The winners of tonight all are to report at six o'clock tomorrow morning for your briefing. And to the audience, I bid you a good weekend. I'll see most of you bright and early Monday morning."

There some groans in the crowd at the last line and a whole lot of shuffling as the remaining DLE members started to make their way out.

Harry felt a tapping on his shoulder and turned around into a hug. Vittoria was more emotional than he was used to seeing.

"You alright?"

"Congrats Harry! We both did it! Finally we're done being trainees!" Vittoria's pretty face was marred with smeared makeup and a crooked grin.

Harry smiled back, "Let's get out of here and get a drink. Are your friends around?"

She glanced behind herself. "I think they already took off. It doesn't matter. There's this place in Muggle London I've been meaning to show you," she said, grabbing his hand and leading him off.

…

They both agreed to meet up outside the Leaky Caldron at 10:30 PM, following a post-duel shower and change. Neither one felt particularly comfortable socializing in their Auror garb and sweat filled robes.

Harry took a long look in the mirror. It was definitely a bittersweet moment. Both him and Vittoria had gone through the motions for months as the front lines in the Auror office, never getting to follow up on any leads they might discover and doing the drudgery and office work for their superiors. Now, when the moment comes that they can start to do more, they're likely to be separated and thrust into a new routine. Ultimately, the necessity of their separation was recognized but they had a connection that also couldn't be denied.

Soothing out his black button up shirt and gray slacks, he decided against a tie and simply donned a gray cloak that looked somewhat like a blazer. His hair fell almost neatly in its post-shower dampness. Heading out of his flat, he performed a cursory cleaning charm, straightening up his rather barren abode.

…

The place in Muggle London happened to be a jazz bar. Live music and live dancing merely a stone's throw from the entrance to the Wizarding alleys. Vittoria wore a light blue, knee-length polka dot dress. Her hair was raised in a bun, and she topped her head with a wide brimmed periwinkle blue hat. She met Harry at the Leaky before they walked hand-in-hand to the jazz bar simply titled _Sullivan's_.

"I'm not much of a dancer," Harry warned.

"Nonsense," Vittoria smiled, "You said you're a good flier."

Harry nodded grudgingly.

"Just imagine I'm the broom. Keep up." Vittoria led Harry through an array of dances. Finally, the music took a turn for the slower and they made their way to a table.

"Drink?" Harry offered.

"Just a pint," Vittoria looked somewhat winded and ready for a cold drink.

Harry ordered and carried one pint and one a little stronger to their table. They made small talk for a little while, waxing on the next step each would be taking the next day. Then the night started to wrap up. Neither would admit to who started what, but a kiss led to another and then a whispered conversation of his place or hers. Hers was closer. The night ended with both in each other's arms. A chapter of their lives closed with a whimper and a moan.


End file.
